


A New Hope

by AnUnexpectedMuffin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:52:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3189653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnUnexpectedMuffin/pseuds/AnUnexpectedMuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Bobby is exasperated, Gabriel is not actually dead, Castiel has the plans to the Death Star, and Metatron is the Evil Emperor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Hope

Heaven’s dungeon isn’t actually hard to find (it’s tucked away between a memory of high-school calculus and a memory of pickling sauerkraut). It also isn’t all that hard to get into, at least not for human souls, since it’s designed to keep angels in, not people out. And it’s certainly not designed to keep Bobby Singer out, because there’s nothing that can successfully deter Bobby Singer from getting something done. Although because of Metatron’s very vivid but not particularly creative imagination it is almost perfectly designed to make him roll his eyes in exasperation. At the tackiness. 

Because seriously? A dark, dank, underground chamber with dripping walls and rusting chains and _scurrying rats_? All it really needs is an ill-clad torturer with a knife—

“Well there _was_ one, but Theo fell along with everyone else,” Gabriel mumbles. He’s curled into a ball in one corner of the cell, looking absolutely miserable. “And then he ended up on the wrong side of Castiel, which, I might add, is fast becoming a dangerous place to be.”

“You don’t say?” Bobby…is actually worried about the trickster/archangel. The past few years have been almost as bad to him as they have to Sam and Dean. Or maybe worse; Bobby doesn’t really know how surviving fratricide by the skin of your teeth and the virtue of being a pagan god as well as an angel (just as angels can’t be killed with wooden stakes, pagan gods can’t be killed with angel blades) only to immediately be captured by Naomi, (all Gabriel will say about the years she had him is “you can’t reprogram or brainwash an archangel. She didn’t _get_ that”) and then to survive her only to have _Metatron_ take over (“he gave me the ‘together we can rule the galaxy’ speech, and then took offense when I told him to go boil his head”) compares to Sam’s adventures with souls and Hallucifer and Dean’s vacation to purgatory and their joint adventures with Garth.

The fact that Gabriel is currently trying to hide from Bobby an impressive black eye and split lip also doesn’t bode well for the completely foolhardy and self-sacrificing plan (in Bobby’s personal opinion, not that any of you idjits _asked)_ he concocted with the dubious assistance of Ash and Jimmy Novak (two people, in Bobby’s opinion, who are collectively crazier than all the bags of cats in the world) and the frankly alarming assistance of Jo and a secretary named Nancy.

He has half a mind to keep the pie Karen made to himself.  But that would defeat the purpose, which is to get the archangel to talk, so instead he wedges the Tupperware container through the bars and waits until Gabriel has a mouthful before he asks “So how did your little field trip go?”

“Welllll….I think we can safely say that _nobody_ got what they wanted, that Castiel is a suspicious bastard, that Dean is extremely skilled at ruining the best laid plans of mice and men…”

“Which we all _know_. Is there a reason Metatron used you as a punching bag?”

“Um…his brilliant plan to trick Cas into the charge of the light brigade was derailed when I failed to account for wardrobe changes. Did you know he lost the tie? Little bro’s loosening up!”

“ _Did Metatron catch you_?” Honestly, it’s like dealing with a hyperactive toddler.

“Almost. I’m pretty sure Cassie noticed when I palmed a vial of grace into his pocket under the cover of hugging him, but he covered it. Of course he covered it by blowing the fact that we were in a fake reality...”

“Ah.”

“And of course ol’ Tron decided to blame _me_ for that.” Gabriel mumbles around a mouthful of pie, “but at least the squirt got away. And hey! He’s got his grace back!”

“And so,” Bobby sighs, “The battle lines have been drawn and the sides armed.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I can tell Henriksen to prepare for outright war.”

‘Mmmm.”

“According to Ash, ‘they’re preparing an assault on the Death Star’”

This causes Gabriel to choke-snort into his pie.

“What?”

“You have no idea how much I would give to hear Metatron say ‘It’s a trap!’”

Meanwhile, in an abandoned factory somewhere in Wisconsin, Castiel sits on a bale of industrial wire. He has a vial of grace— _his_ grace—and a torn scrap of paper in his hands.

_Hey Constantine,_ the paper reads, _I think this belongs to you. And a little hint? Metatron fails at literary analysis. Reread the Supernatural books and look at who the actual heroes of the story are._

 “What does it mean?” Hannah asks, peering over his shoulder.

“It means,” he says, “That Metatron has made a truly terrible miscalculation. And we have been handed the plans to the Death Star.”


End file.
